Here We Stand [H.S]

113.

I ran my fingers through my hair, loosening the lengths I had just straightened over with my hair straighteners.

The ends separated between my fingers, and it gave my hair a nice texture as it flowed down my face, accentuating my cheek bones and general frame of my face.

Checking my makeup over for the third time in the mirror, I brushed off the small bit of power that had collected on my cheek.

Once I was satisfied, I left the bathroom and stepped into the bedroom to get dressed into my jeans and shirt I had planned to wear for the afternoon.

I was running late as usual, and with the sound of my mobile ringing in the back, I quickly pulled my jeans up and turned to grab my shirt when I caught the sight of my body in the mirror.

I stood staring at my reflection in the mirror when my hand slowly trembled over my stomach, the electricity shooting through my veins as my fingertips barely touched the skin.

I paused, biting my lip as hot tears formed quick and fast, the memory of last week burning inside my mind.

I had dreams of hearing the heartbeat of a baby that was so badly wanted at my scan, knowing that it was going to be the most beautiful piece of music I had ever heard in my life- more so because Oscar was apart of Harry and I had a piece of that forever.

Knowing there is a life inside of you, it truly makes you know that you're creating and bringing a life into the world, another person, another human being.

And even though at the time we thought I had been nine weeks gone, once I had gotten my head around what was happening to us (and me, I guess) I had already begun to envision what our baby was going to look like and what names we were going to mull over.

I was already feeling very maternal because it was my first child with the man that I loved.

And now it was all gone, in a blink of an eye.

Everything that Harry and I dreamed of was gone, snatched away cruelly and I guess love just wasn't enough for our little peanut to survive.

I had my rough days in the last week, hell, I had my days when I didn't want to leave my bed; but I swear I tried, I tried everyday to get better and to not let this devastation beat me or break me down.

My boy deserved a mummy who was strong and healthy, and I was determined to do him proud for as long as I was living and breathing.

I wasn't going to lie or pretend, losing Oscar so brutally had taken the life out of me and there had been a moment of madness where I was so tired, so worn out, so down and suicidal in my thoughts, that for a split second I agreed that I was probably one of the unluckiest people in the world... so unlucky that I could barely breathe without wanting to break my heart in sobs.

I mean, in my short lifespan of 21 years, my mother had died giving me life, my father died just ten years later on my tenth birthday, I found out that I was a twin and had been separated from my brother for whatever reason; I had fought and beaten cancer; and now my son had been taken from me.

How much more could a girl take, seriously?

But then there were days and moments when I realised that there were people much worse off than me, and it hit me instantly that I should be grateful that I was healthy, alive and had the most incredible, supportive, loving boyfriend I could ever want and need in my life.

Mix that in with his beautiful mother who had been my rock (especially the last week), not to mention his sister, father and step-father being at our beck and call and standing beside us through the harshest hell we could ever go through- I was in fact one of the luckiest girls in the world.